


Marry In May, You'll Rue The Day

by hughie87



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hughie87/pseuds/hughie87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oliver and Felicity's special day arrives, nothing goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry In May, You'll Rue The Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loulou26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loulou26/gifts), [FWvidChick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FWvidChick/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to my good friends, Lou and Jenny, who both have been having a bit of a rough time. Hope this makes y'all smile, dears!! =)
> 
> This ficlet came out of a need to have Oliver take a wet wedding dress off Felicity. It is a very odd reason to write a piece, haha, but that is what happened! I had recently seed Decoy Bride with David Tennant (which is totally cheesy but ADORABLE!!) and there was a moment where he helped the leading lady out of a sopping wedding dress and the moment went from humorous to all electrically charged and it just screamed to be applied to come of my other ships. So, here we are!! =D
> 
> I also make a few statements which are meant to be humorous about some things linked to being Jewish. They are not meant be offensive, but funny and a way to reveal the brief underlying tension between Felicity and her mother.

“You think it’s going to rain?” Oliver asked as he watched his reflection in the mirror reach up and tug at his bowtie.  He scowled and shook his head.   
   
A slim, black necktie fluttered over his shoulder.  “Thanks,” Oliver said absently as he undid the bowtie, tossing it, and then quickly slipped the silk around his neck and under his collar.  Tightening the knot at his throat, he smoothed the fabric down between the smart lapels of his black suit jacket; smiling at his reflection this time.  
   
“Weatherman says no but you know what liars they are,” Diggle replied as he stepped into Oliver’s line of sight next to the mirror, lounging casually against the wall, massive arms crossed in his signature stance.  “You worried about that old wives superstition?”  
   
Oliver smoothed his tie once again and then fiddled with the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt.  Diggle smirked when he realized it was Oliver’s nervous energy seeping out beneath the cool and collected façade he was currently sporting. 

“Felicity’s mother has been spouting off all week about rain and other stuff,” Oliver replied nonchalantly, buttoning the jacket and then unbuttoning it and finally buttoning it again.  “Felicity doesn’t buy into any of that but I think her mother has her on edge.”  
   
“Mothers can do that,” Diggle commented.  “Hopefully she didn’t mention the one about brides who marry in May.”  
   
Oliver’s head snapped up, eyes widening slightly before he could hide the anxiety on his face.  “There’s a superstition about weddings in May?” He asked a little frantically.       
   
Diggle hid the chuckle behind a cough into his hand.  He’d watched Oliver and Felicity grapple over a date for the ceremony for what seemed like an eternity.  They’d both wanted the ceremony to be a simple and small affair.  However, as Thea and Walter had both pointed out, Oliver was a Queen.  Starling City, along with many of Starling City’s cream de la cream, expected a certain level of standard from the darling of Queen Industries.   
   
There was the hiring of a wedding planner who was told the only requirements she needed to meet were the ceremony was to be private, small, and short.  The reception after the wedding could be as big as Woodstock for all that Oliver and Felicity cared as long as the ceremony met their qualifications.  As soon as the wedding planner and staff had their marching orders, it had fallen to the couple to set a date.  March or April had been the two favorite months.  The Wedding Planner wanted June and would not be dissuaded.  The group settled on May, none too happy about it.  
   
“Just a small one,” Diggle answered calmly.  He had one job as Best Man and that was to keep the Groom from running out the door.  With Oliver, that wasn’t the problem, though.  It was more about keeping Oliver contained and not marching off to find his bride to get it over and done with.  Digg had never seen two more ready to be married.   
   
Oliver checked his cufflinks; making sure they were secure before elongating his arms, stretching out the sleeves of his jacket before his hands found his tie again.  Diggle pushed away from the wall.   
   
“How about I go check on the ladies?  See if we can get this show on the road,” he suggested, wanting to put Oliver out of his anxiety-driven primping misery.  
   
“Sure,” Oliver nodded, the gesture a little more emphatic than he expected.   
   
Giving the groom a pat on the shoulder, Diggle crossed the small room off the right side of St. Patrick’s Cathedral they’d been given to dress.  As he got to the rickety wooden door, he halted.  With a hand on the door knob, Diggle cocked his head to the side and listened.  He looked over his shoulder, meeting the stony gaze of Oliver Queen.   
   
“Sirens,” Oliver observed.  
   
Diggle shrugged.  “Could be nothing.”  
   
Oliver lifted his brows.  
   
“I know, I know.” Digg gave a tired chuckle.  “I’ll go check it out.”  
   
“Do that,” Oliver replied.  He turned back to the mirror as Diggle opened the door.  “Nothing can go wrong today.  _Nothing_ ,” he told his reflection, straightening his already perfectly straight tie.  
   
The boy was going to hang himself if he wasn’t careful, Diggle thought as he passed through the door into the open cathedral with high vaulted ceilings.  Diggle scanned the small crowd which consisted of roughly 75 people.  His eyes caught sight of Roy and Barry chatting on a front pew.  He caught Roy’s eyes and motioned him over.  Roy loped over to him, looking very uncomfortable in something fancier than his standard red hoodie, tight jeans and sneakers.

Digg hitched his chin toward the door.  “Make sure he doesn’t strangle himself with his tie.”  
   
“Nervous primping?” Roy asked with a smirk.  
   
“Is there any other kind?” Digg dead-panned.  “We heard sirens.  I’m headed out to do some re-con,” Diggle informed Roy.  
   
“The guy is getting married.  Let the police handle this one,” Roy replied as he headed to the door and disappeared inside.   
   
Turning back to the sanctuary with a small crowd spattered over the pews, Diggle headed off down the side of the large, open space, his dress shoes clicking against the rough stone hewn floor.  At the back of the cathedral, just outside the vestibule doors, Diggle met Detective Quentin Lance also making his way hastily from the place he’d been seated with his daughters.  He looked quickly up from the phone he was rapidly scrolling in his hand.   
   
Digg reached the door before he did.  Pushing it open, he stepped out and held it open for the older man.   
   
“It’s Mr. Bodyguard,” Lance greeted in his sarcastic manner.  “Here to ensure the happy couple get their big day?”  
   
The two men headed off to the left in the direction of the massive entryway that spilled out onto one of Starling’s main thoroughfares.  
   
“You could say that,” Diggle answered curtly.  “You on the job?”  
   
Lance glanced up from his phone and over at Diggle who he seemed to just realize was sauntering along beside him.  
   
“You could say that,” Lance parroted back.   
   
Lance hit the door first and stepped outside, Diggle right behind him.  Both men pulled up short at the rain that was pelting up from above.  
   
“Great, a monsoon,” Lance groused.  “You better get back in there and tell your boss that his guests may need life-rafts to get outta here.”  
   
Diggle turned up his collar against the cool water droplets that were falling inside his jacket and running down his back, ensuring his light cotton shirt was starting to stick to his skin.  Lance and Diggle skipped down the cement steps and onto the sidewalk.  
   
“Oh, man,” Diggle breathed when he saw flashing lights on top of squad cars and a barricade set up, blocking off the street from both ends in front of the TBA Tower.  Twenty or thirty of Starling’s Finest were out milling around in slickers and rain boots, talking into walkie-talkies and to each other; every other one glancing up at the top of the tower.  “Lance, look, I need to know what is going on.”  
   
Glancing over at Diggle, Lance nodded.  “Wait here.”  
   
Lance stepped off and strode over to the first cop he came to.  The conversation was brief and Lance’s face hardened with each word spoken by the patrol officer.   When he made his way back to Diggle, his shoulders slumped just a little.  
   
“You’re gonna need to get all those people out.  We got a bomb up there,” Lance began.  
   
Once Lance apprised Diggle of the situation, Diggle rushed back into the cathedral.  Attempting not to look alarmed, he made his way back up the side he’d gone down, grabbing Barry as he went.  The slim man scampered behind him as the two stumbled into the room where Oliver was.  If Diggle hadn’t been about the deliver some news that could possibly make the scowl lines in Oliver’s forehead permanent, he would have laughed.           
   
Apparently, the nervous energy in the room has gone beyond fidgeting with apparel.  Roy and Oliver stood facing each other, both suit jackets thrown over the back of rickety chairs at a matching rickety table.  They had taken the two coat trees from beside the door and were sparring; circling each other around the room, each landing blows on each other and the opposing poker, causing sharp metallic _pings!_ to reverberate around the small space.   
   
Oliver sensed Digg’s presence and sent Roy a look to signify a halt to their parry.  They each put down their make-shift weapon and turned to face Digg and Barry.  
   
“What’s going on?” Oliver asked with a measured tone.  
   
Diggle looked at Barry and at Roy and finally, back to Oliver.  “You’re not gonna like this.”  
   
In another room at the church, Felicity’s mother stood looking out the beveled glass window that faced the small courtyard behind the cathedral.  She shook her head sadly as she peered out, squinting to make out anything through the deluge currently assaulting Starling City, the Jewel of the Californian Bay.  A heavy sigh was heard.  
   
“What now?” Felicity asked through clenched teeth as she fisted her hands by her sides.   
   
“Hmm?” Carla Smoak swiveled her head to look at her daughter.  “Oh, nothing, sweetie.  It’s just raining.”  
   
“We’re inside, Ma.  A little rain never hurt anyone,” Felicity replied.  She loved her mother but the saying ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ could easily be applied to weddings, too.  Sadly, this bridal kitchen just wasn’t big enough for Felicity, her mother and a wedding planner.  Thankfully, Felicity was the _Bride_ and the buck stopped with _her._ More importantly, working with and loving a man like Oliver Queen had strengthened Felicity’s own will, knowing how and when to make herself heard.  And she’d had to be strong to stand against her mother and a highly qualified and snobbish wedding planner.   
   
“You’re right,” Carla said in the tone that Felicity remembered from childhood; just because Carla Smoak admitted you were right, didn’t mean she agreed with you.  “It’s just…  Oh, nothing.”  
   
“What, Ma?  Should I send someone to tell the minister that the wedding is called on account of rain?” Felicity fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice but when her mother flinched at the word ‘minister’, Felicity rolled her eyes and didn’t care if she sounded like a Bridezilla or not.  
   
"There is no need for that tone, Felicity,” her mother said softly.  
   
Felicity breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.  “I’m sorry, Ma.”  
   
Carla walked over to one of the overstuffed chairs and settled herself down, crossing her legs and laying her hands in her lap demurely.   
   
“This is the reason I said you should have gotten married in June.  ‘The Bride that marries in May, will rue the day but the Bride who marries is June, will never end her honeymoon’,” Carla quoted an old proverb.  “And now it’s raining.”  
   
“Well, you know what they say.  ‘Rain on the wedding day, keeps the guests away,’” Felicity sniffed.  “Looks like rain is a blessing to me.”  
   
“Well, if you insist on being such a grouchy bride!” Carla exclaimed.  “Rain is bad luck, Felicity.  It means you will cry many tears in your marriage.  This is hardly an encouraging start to your life with the Queen Boy.”  
   
“The ‘Queen Boy’?  His name is _Oliver,_ Ma.  _Ol-i-ver,”_ Felicity enunciated slowly.  “What is this even about, Ma?  You have seemed less than thrilled ever since you came out here.  Do you have a problem with Oliver?”  
   
“No,” Carla answered slowly.  “Oliver is a lovely young man.  I just worry that…”  
   
Felicity stood for a few seconds before raising her eyebrows, silently asking her mother to continue.  “Worry about what?”  
   
Carla pressed her perfectly colored lips together.   
   
“I just don’t want you to forget where you come from, Felicity.”  
   
“I am hoping you mean the fact that you taught me to be my own person and to go after what I really wanted in life and to not take anything for granted because anything else is just going to make steam come out of my ears like one of Uncle Abe's junked up carburetor’s.”  
   
“What am I supposed to think, young lady?” Carla stood to her feet, advancing on her daughter.  “You don’t observe the Sabbath; you color your hair blonde; you got a _nose job_ with the money Bubbe Yaya sent you for your graduation; and you refused to have a Rabbi as well as a minister to perform the wedding ceremony.  You don’t even have a chuppah-“  
   
“Ma!  I doubt God is going to smite me just because I don’t walk under an arbor that sounds like something the cat coughed up!”  
   
Her mother’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened with horror.  Felicity closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, pressing a hand to her forehead.  When she opened them again, she saw her mother had again retreated to a chair, her face pale.  
   
“Mama.”  Felicity crossed to her mother, her dress rustling around her as she kneeled, reaching and gripping her mother’s hands in hers.  “I will never forget my heritage, I promise.  Our faith is important to me, but the old traditions aren’t.  I don’t mean any disrespect.”  
   
Carla gazed down at her daughter.  She leaned forward and cupped her cheek tenderly.  “Oh, honey, I know you don’t.  Forgive me.  This is a big day!  I’m saying goodbye to my baby girl and it’s all so new!  All I care about is that you are happy, Feygela.”   
   
“Oh, I am, Ma,” Felicity whispered at her mother’s knee.  “I am so very happy.”  
   
“Then that is all that matters,” Carla said with her first genuine smile.  “But I still wish you’d gotten married in June.”  
   
Felicity laughed and shook her head, blinking back the tears so she wouldn’t muss her eye make-up Thea had so painstakingly applied earlier.   
   
As if she sensed her name, the door opened and in rushed Thea, a scrape of gossamer fluttering in her hand.   
   
“Got it!”  Thea cried triumphantly as she waved the bunched fabric above her head, a huge smile gracing her face.  She hurried toward Felicity who stood to meet her.  
   
“Of all the things I thought I would forget today, the veil was not one of them,” Felicity told Thea as the two went and faced the mirror in the corner.   
   
Thea and Felicity exchanged smiles in the glass.  “As long as it’s not my brother’s name at the altar, you can be Miss Scatterbrain all you want today!  That is what I am here for.  Of course, if you _do_ forget my brother’s name, I’ll be right beside you to give you a hint.  But I’ll be majorly upset if you do,” Thea rambled happily as she pinned the veil to Felicity’s up swept hair.  Once the veil was secure, Thea smoothed the veil out, letting it fall gently; watching it cascade down to just under the small of Felicity's back.  
   
Carla joined Thea and Felicity. Her lips trembled and she reached forward.  With a bittersweet rush, her hands found the edges of the veil. Pulling it up and over, Carla settled the thin veil over Felicity's smiling face.  Carla's heart constricted at the beauty of her only daughter in all her finery. Who cared about tradition?  Wasn't the rapturous look on Felicity's face more than enough?   
   
"Good thing John will be there to catch Oliver because he's going to have some weak knees when he sees you," Thea commented with moist eyes.  
   
Felicity looked beyond the two women standing on either side of the mirror to herself in the glass.  The smile that spread across her face was radiant; it dispelled the haze of gray that hung in the bridal room better than any ray of sunshine could have.  
   
"Today I am going to marry the man I love," she whispered in awe.  
   
The 3 women were lost in admiring Felicity that when John Diggle and Roy Harper crashed through the door, they all yelped in surprise.  Carla and Thea jumped in front of Felicity, shielding her from view.  
   
"Roy!" Thea exclaimed unhappily  
   
At the sound of his name, Roy strode forward, taking Thea's hand and Carla's elbow, shuffling them forward.  
   
"Come on, ladies, we gotta evacuate the building," Roy told them simply.  
   
At his words, Felicity began fighting her way out from under the veil.  
   
"Felicity!  Come here!" Carla shouted as Roy continued to steer her and Thea out the door.  
   
"Don't worry, Ms. Smoak, I have her," Diggle replied as he uncovered Felicity under the clinging sheer fabric.  
   
"What is going on?" She asked immediately, batting the remaining sides of the veil out of her face.  
   
"Man in the building next to us with enough C4 to take out a city block,” Diggle replied quietly.  “Barry and Roy are getting people to safety while Sara and Oliver are doing some re-con on the building.  I need to get you to the lair so you can do your high-tech voo-doo.”  
   
Felicity rolled her eyes.  “Figures,” she scoffed.  “Where are they taking everyone?”  
   
“Barry and Laurel got most people out of the church and down the block fast.  Roy is taking Thea and your mom to a more secure location,” Diggle told Felicity as they came out of the room and headed for an exit.  Felicity hauled her cumbersome skirt up past her thighs and into her arms as she tried to match Diggle’s long strides.  “We’re not sure if this guy is out to destroy the face of Queen Industries or if he’s just plain crazy.”  
   
“Do you have an I.D. yet?”

“Not yet.”   
   
Diggle and Felicity halted abruptly as a new voice joined theirs in the long hallway off the side of the sanctuary.  They turned and found a dripping Detective Lance standing behind them.   
   
"Our guys are having trouble getting a line on the camera feed inside the building,” Lance continued, meeting Diggle and Felicity where they stood.  “Mr. Armstrong's head of security has said there is a back-up security feed but either it hasn’t been triggered yet, which could mean this guy knows stuff from the inside, or we just can’t get a lock on it.  So, I headed in here to see if Ms. Smoak could offer any assistance.”  
   
Felicity gave Quentin a soft smile.  "You know I don't work alone."  
   
Lance gave Felicity a sly grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I have a feeling my daughter is already suiting up, so as much back-up as she can get, I would appreciate it.  Especially with you looking out for her, I'll know she's in good hands."  
   
"Always, Detective Lance," Felicity replied, touched that the seasoned police officer trusted her so much.  
   
"And you better come out back with me, Ms. Smoak," Lance ordered. Looking at Diggle, he continued. "I know how hard you worked to keep this a private affair but with the hullabaloo going on next door and the paparazzi already getting a gander at the littlest Queen, your cover is pretty much blown. I got a rabid bunch waiting just outside the chapel doors, bulbs blazin' and ready."  
   
Felicity looked up at Digg and screwed her lips up in distaste. If there was one thing she could change about being a Queen, the press would be it. Normally, she didn't mind being stalked and had found out that a sweet smile and a polite word went a long way. However, they were working people and the day of Oliver Queen's wedding was a prophetic occasion. And she was the woman who settled him down!  Every magazine in the nation wanted a picture or a dozen if they could.  
   
"There is a portico out back that the funeral home uses. It's cut off from the street so it will take some clever driving but it's maneuverable," Lance told Digg. He turned to Felicity. "You might get a little wet."  
   
"Better than looking like a runaway bride," Felicity dead-panned. She reached up and deftly yanked the veil out of her hair. "Let's get rid of this first."  
   
She tossed it to Digg who caught it and shoved it into his pocket with a, "Meet you 'round back!" as he took off at a jog the way he and Felicity had originally been headed.  
   
"Lead the way," Felicity said to Lance.  
   
In a rare moment of thoughtfulness that had Felicity grinning despite the urgency of the moment, Lance reached over and took a handful of her heavy skirt and held it high as he walked beside her, leading her back amongst the maze of the old church hallways and classrooms.  
   
"I hope working with the Arrow ain't gonna put any strain on your marital bliss," Lance told Felicity somberly. "I know from experience the toll a job can take on a marriage. Even one as worthwhile as the one you do for the Arrow."  
   
Felicity glanced over at Lance and finding him staring straight ahead, his short hair waving even more than usual due to the droplets of water had left the salt-and-pepper strands damp.  There were times when she was sure Lance knew the Arrow was Oliver but she didn’t know if he kept quiet because sometimes it was safer _not_ to know.  He walked a fine line between the law and the vigilante he turned to more and more frequently.  Her heart warmed at the advice he was giving her.  For all of Lance’s harsh words about Oliver over the years, it was clear the man had a growing soft spot for the younger man.  
   
“I’m lucky Oliver understands,” Felicity responded quietly as she and Lance arrived outside some modern steel plated doors that looked very out of place in the centuries old church.   
   
Lance reached up and knocked the locks out of place and then did the same to the ones at the bottom, pushing on the metal bars.  One of the doors was caught by the wind of the storm and swung open, banging violently against the brick of the building as it slammed back.  Rain swept in, drenching Felicity’s face and hair as she and Lance stood in the doorway.  A crack of thunder shook the ground and Felicity scanned the sky for a bolt of lightning.  It wasn’t just raining on her wedding day, Mother Nature was downright angry!  
   
“So did my wife at one point!” Lance yelled above the din of the storm.  He looked across the pitted pavement as Diggle pulled a sleek, black town car as close as he could to the building.  Diggle got out and sprinted through the pelting rain.  “You and Oliver just make sure the Arrow doesn’t take over your lives.  Be in love!  Be married!  Because at the end of the day, it’s just you and him!”  
   
Felicity was getting wetter by the second.  Diggle made it to the doorframe just as Lance shrugged off his rain slicker and swung it around Felicity’s shoulders.  As he did so, Felicity stepped forward, hugging the Detective tightly.  Lance stood frozen for a second before he wrapped his arms tentatively around the bride’s slim frame.   
   
“Thank you, Quentin,” Felicity whispered in his ear as she pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek.  She pulled away and clutched the slicker to her, smiling warmly at Lance.  Lance cleared his throat awkwardly before nodding at Digg and scurrying back to dark of the church.   
   
“Looks like we gotta run for it,” Digg said.   
   
Rolling her eyes, Felicity put a hand on Digg’s arm to steady herself as she bent over and tugged off the heels she’d been wearing.  Diggle opened his palm automatically, taking the shoes in one of his mammoth fists.   
   
“Running barefoot in the rain?” He observed.  
   
“Is there any other way to go?” She replied back, winking at him.  
   
Pulling the slicker up and over her head, Felicity followed Digg at a dead run across the yard to the car, her feet slipping and sliding all over the wet ground.  Thankfully, she stayed right-side up.  The slicker flapped drunkenly in the wind, providing little or no shelter from the rain.  Sliding quickly into the door to the backseat Diggle held open for her, Felicity tossed the yellow raincoat onto the seat next to her.  She realized she was completely drowned from head to toe, her magnificent dress soaked through to her skin and weighing heavily on her body.   
   
The car lurched forward and then sped off, pushing Felicity back into the cushy leather seat.  She grasped the handle as she struggled into the seat belt as Diggle careened around corners and sailed over potholes, crossing town to the lair in record time.  When he screeched to a stop in front of the hidden back entrance to Verdant, the club the lair was hidden underneath, Felicity was sure she matched the eggshell color of her gown.   
   
Grasping the handle, Felicity opened the door just as Diggle was pulling it wider for her to exit.  The rain was still pouring and Felicity didn’t even bother with the slicker.  It was too late; the damage had been done.   
   
“Did you train to be a Nascar driver on your vacation, Digg?” Felicity asked with lifted brows.  
   
“That’s the next level of your training,” Diggle replied with a smirk as the two of them jogged to the door, Felicity’s skirts once again bundled in her arms.  Diggle reached the door first and punched in his security code.  The door unlocked with a hiss and Felicity pulled it open.  “Where do you think Oliver is taking you for your honeymoon?”  
   
“Better not be Talladega,” Felicity teased as the two of them plodded down the stairs to the sublevel of the basement.  
   
Diggle snapped on the lights while Felicity shuffled over to her tech center, powering up the monitors and her other servers.  
   
“You better change into some dry clothes before you catch a cold, Felicity,” Diggle observed while he threw some things into a bag and then shrugged off his suit jacket.  It hit the floor with a wet slap.  “We don’t want you sick for whatever trip Oliver has planned.”  
   
Felicity blushed slightly under Diggle’s knowing gaze.  She turned back to the computers, typing in passwords and setting up the special encrypted firewalls she always used when doing Arrow work.  Perching in the chair, kicking the train of her dress that was leaving a heavy trail of water behind her, Felicity began pulling up all information she could about Mr. Armstrong and what he could possibly have wandered into.  
   
“I’m heading back,” Diggle told her.  She held out her palm that held six comms.  Diggle took four; slipping one into his own ear and turning it on.  Felicity did the same with her own.  “Oliver should he headed back here to suit up and go over what he might need from you.”  
   
“Be careful, Digg!” Felicity called to Diggle’s retreating back.  He was up the stairs and out of the lair in minutes.   
   
Seeing that Oliver would be there in a matter of minutes, Felicity scurried out of her chair and headed back to the closet where she and Oliver kept a few changes of clothes.  She opened the door and reached in, pulling out a pair of gym pants and a tattered sweatshirt of Oliver’s.  Running the worn fabric between her fingers, she brought it to her face, burying her nose within the folds.  It smelt like Oliver; like fresh laundry and evergreen.  She breathed it in a moment longer before she closed the closet and walked back to the main part of the lair.  She laid the clothes on the table.   
   
Reaching up, she took the pins from her hair and shook out the thick mass.  It waved messily around her shoulders and she pushed it back with frustration.  She’d thought about cutting it many times, but every time she mentioned it, Oliver would take her ponytail in his hands, twirling it between his fingers with a look of pure lust.  Pulling her slightly, Oliver would bring her closer to press lips to her neck, begging her to never take scissors to her beautiful hair.  Felicity snorted at the memory.  She wondered if Oliver was more in love with her hair than her at times.  
   
A door slammed and jarred her from her memory.  Felicity gasped.   
   
“Felicity!” Oliver called out.  
   
Felicity grabbed the clothes and held them to her chest, scanning frantically for a hiding place.  She spied a mound of wedding gifts that she’d moved in here, intent on getting thank you notes written during some down time but hadn’t gotten around to it.  She ducked behind them, praying the pastel wrapping would camouflage her enough.  Popping her head up just above a ridiculously large bow, she watched Oliver appear and strode over to the glass case he kept his Arrow suit in.       
   
“Fe-li-ci-ty!” He called again, enunciating her name the way that made her knees go weak.  His appearance didn’t help much, either.  He opened the glass door and then discarded his suit jacket, his white shirt sticking to him and leaving every muscular crevice in stark detail.  Felicity swallowed.  He would need help with the fastenings on his suit.  Well, he could do it himself but it had become part of their routine for her to zip him up while he toyed with her hair.  It kept her calm enough to send him into the field when they’d crossed that line into something more than just partners.  He hung the suit jacket on the arm of a coat tree that stood next to the case before moving to the buttons on the shirt.  Soon, the shirt was pushed off his shoulders and also hung on the coat tree next to the jacket.  He just stood in his black slacks and a white muscle t-shirt.    
   
“Hey, Felicity!  I really need you in here, honey!  Can you get a move on?” He no doubt assumed she was changing herself.  Felicity sighed.  
   
“I’m right here, Oliver,” she answered him with a pout behind the presents.  
   
Oliver followed the sound of her voice and finally spotted her.  His face alighted with a special smile just for her before his brows furrowed.  “What are you doing, sweetheart?”  
   
From his vantage point, Oliver could only see her eyes.  Felicity huffed.  “I’m working on getting out of this dress.”  She thrust her hands behind her back and tried grabbing at the small, pearl buttons.  The angle was wrong and she could tell the bride was not the one who was meant to undo those.  
   
With a perplexed grin, Oliver took a few steps toward the mountain of boxes.  “Behind the presents?”  
   
 _“Don’t come any closer!”_ Felicity yelled.  
   
Oliver chuckled and held up some hands, stopping where he was.  “Okay, okay.  Do you need any help?”  
   
“Yes!” Felicity snapped.  “Not from you, though.  I’m going to have to figure out how to get out of it myself.”  
   
"Felicity, I helped you pick the dress out. I've already seen it,” Oliver reminded her.  
   
"You haven't seen _me_ in the dress, Oliver. Big difference!"  
   
Oliver took a breath.  He could see her eyes just above the top box.  They were wide and frantic and beautiful, but he needed her out _here,_ helping him and being his eyes.   
   
“Felicity,” he began softly.  “If you need me to get you out of that dress for you to work, you’re going to have to come out.  There is a man with enough –“

“Enough C4 to take out a city block, I know!  Digg already told me!” Felicity finished for him.  This was absurd!  Felicity had insisted he help pick out the dress so they had something they both liked.  These pictures were going to be around for a long time.  He hadn’t seen _her_ in the dress, though.  She didn’t care about the flowers or the music or if the colors clashed with the season or even if she walked down the aisle to Pachelbel Canon in D or Bohemian Rhapsody!  None of that mattered.  What _did_ matter was the look on Oliver’s face when he saw her for the first time.  Everything else could be re-done and re-planned and re-ordered.  That once in a lifetime moment couldn’t be.  And not even a crazy man holding a whole city quadrant hostage under threat of explosion could make her see otherwise!  
   
“Then why are you hiding behind a pile of wedding gifts?” Oliver asked, the first sign of frustration edging into his calm voice.   
   
“Because I don’t want you to see me in my wedding dress if I am not walking down the aisle!  And there is no rationalizing with a bride on her wedding day, so just move on, Archer boy!”  
   
“Archer boy?” Oliver repeated.  He shook his head and began walking forward.  “Felicity, this is –“  
   
 _“Don’t you dare!”_ Felicity screamed.  “I mean it, Oliver Queen!  You come one more inch closer, you can see me all you want in this wedding dress because there won’t be a wedding!”  
   
Oliver stopped short again, recognizing Felicity’s ‘business’ voice.  He couldn’t believe he was trying to coax his bride out from behind wedding gifts.  “Honey, come out and let me help you,” he tried one more time.  
   
“No,” Felicity replied curtly.  
   
“I promise I won’t look.”  
   
Felicity arched a brow.  “And just how do you propose to do that?”  
   
“I’ll close my eyes,” Oliver suggested.  He held up his hand.  “Scout’s honor.”  
   
The blonde appraised him from her hiding spot with arched brows.  “That would be a lot more believable if I didn’t know you and Tommy used Boy Scouts to sneak off and drink your father’s expensive liquor.”  
   
“Look, I’m not gonna tell you I understand because I don’t, but I can see this is important to you,” Oliver ground out, holding himself back from going over there and dragging Felicity out.  “So, I promise that I will keep my eyes closed until you are free and clear of the dress.”  
   
Felicity eyed him, gauging just how much he meant his words.  “Okay.  Close ‘em.”  
   
Oliver closed his eyes obediently.  Felicity ducked over from behind the gifts, holding the pants and sweatshirt in front of her.  She arrived in front of Oliver and waved a hand in front of his face.  He smirked.  
   
“Are you squinting?” Felicity demanded.  
   
“No!” Oliver exclaimed, holding up his hands, chuckling at his bride’s antics.  “But I can tell what you are doing!”  
   
Felicity huffed and turned her back to Oliver, reaching behind her neck and pulling her hair forward.  “Ready.”  
   
Oliver screwed his eyes shut and extended his hands, his fingers brushing against Felicity’s exposed back.   
   
“Little bit lower,” Felicity said quietly, swallowing as Oliver’s blunt fingertips slid down her bare skin to find where the dress came together, grasping the first button.  He pulled the little button out of its loop with a growl, the wetness of the dress making the fabric hard to work with.  He freed the next one and the next one, Felicity biting her lip the lower he went.  When he was at the small of her back, she gasped as Oliver framed her hip with a hand as he lost the line of buttons and had to find it again.  She felt the chilled air brush her back but it did nothing to cool the heat that was currently simmering along her skin.  She hoped he was almost done; it was torture to stand here as he undid the buttons, his fingers and hands innocently dancing along her spine.  
   
Oliver was experiencing much the same.  With his eyes closed, everything else seemed to be more heightened.  The way her breath caught each time his bare hands grazed her skin; the way she trembled when he pulled the back of the dress a little farther apart; the way her flesh pebbled with each inch exposed to the air controlled temperature in the room.  Oliver pulled away and clenched his hands into fists.  He wanted Felicity so badly it hurt him.  They had both agreed that they wanted to wait until after they were married to finally be with each other.  After many _long_ discussions, both of them decided the healthiest thing was for them to wait.  With his track record of falling into bed with many women _before_ his stint on the island and then the ones after to chase away the loneliness, he didn’t blame Felicity for wanting to be sure that this was it before she gave that part of her to him. Right now, though, he none of those reasons seemed to matter as his hands slipped and lost the row of buttons for the second time.   
   
Gritting his teeth, he stretched forward his hands once more and came in contact with some plump lace-covered body.  Widening his fingers, his pulse spiked when Felicity made another primal noise in the back of her throat.  Oliver stepped closer and pressed his mouth into Felicity’s damp hair, realizing he was groping her backside.  He stilled, taking deep breaths of her rain-soaked hair to get control of himself.  Sliding his hands up, he undid the last few buttons and tried to pull the dress apart.  It wouldn’t budge.  He groaned.  Knowing he would pay for it later, Oliver opened his eyes.  His breath left him in one sharp gust of longing.  
   
Felicity had her hair swept over to the side, exposing the long line of her neck.  Oliver leaned forward and pressed small kisses to her skin, rewarded with breathy moans.  
   
“Oliver…” Felicity whispered.  “You’re supposed to be helping me.”  
   
“I am,” he replied as he finished his line of kisses down to the middle of back between her shoulder blades that were framed by the delicate patterned lace of her bodice.  If buttoned, the dress would meet right under there.  Oliver peered down and found the reason the dress was not coming open.  He’d missed a few buttons with his eyes closed.  He took his time and looked, in no hurry to be discovered peeking at his bride.  He had helped pick out the dress but this was the first time he’d seen it up close.  Felicity was right; seeing it on her was completely different.  The sheer scalloped edges framed her narrow back, the sleeves covering her toned arms and ending beneath her elbows.  Below that was solid, heavy white silk covered in another layer of lace with intricately woven flowers and swirls all over it.  It clung sweetly to her hips, thighs and bottom bellowing and gathering slightly like a mermaid tail before flaring outward in a medium trail behind her.  
   
When the buttons were free, Oliver pushed his hands inside, opening the back of the dress wider.  He chuckled in the back of his throat, it rumbling inside his chest.  She wore forest green lingerie underneath her snowy white dress.  Oliver stepped forward, pressing himself to Felicity’s back and burying his lips against the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  Felicity gasped, her arm snaking up and around his neck, holding him to her. His mouth moved over her skin seductively, sliding upward to capture the rapidly pumping pulse point just on the underside of Felicity’s jaw.  As his lips skimmed her flesh, his hands slid further inside her gown, caressing their way slowly along her ribs to meet in front just under her bra.  Pulling her flush against him, he felt her sigh rather than hearing it.  
   
Oliver flattened his palms, holding Felicity tightly in his arms as his chaste brushes turned into open mouthed kisses.  Felicity trembled, her breath catching in her chest as she hugged Oliver closer with one arm around his neck, the other behind her, clutching her side.  She couldn’t think of anything beyond Oliver and where he touched her and the strength of him huddled against her back.  She gave her weight to him, leaning back and losing herself in the haze of pleasure he was creating around her.  Suddenly, she was spun around, crushed to Oliver’s front as she gazed up at him.  His eyes were hooded and dark with desire.  
   
“Oh, Felicity,” he breathed lowly, his voice filled with awe.  “You’re so beautiful.”  
   
Felicity only had a moment before Oliver’s lips met hers in such a heated kiss she moaned into him.  She surged up on her tip toes to equalize the distance between them, sliding one hand up his neck and the other clutching his shoulder for purchase.  Oliver helped her, settling his hands on the small of her back and tilting her upward, desperate to have all of her mouth and all of her against him, fitting to him in the most gratifying way.  His fingers found their way inside the dress again, grabbing at the hot flesh there.  Felicity trembled against him, deepening the kiss when she opened her mouth and Oliver slipped inside.  And then it was all lips and teeth and tongues and hands.  Soon, Oliver left Felicity’s mouth to mark a line down to her shoulder that he had bared when he tugged the neckline over and off her arm.  
   
“You weren’t supposed to look,” Felicity murmured as Oliver tucked his fingers under the lace and pulled it farther away, baring more skin to his hungry lips.  “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”  She cradled the back of Oliver’s head, scratching her nails in his short hair, loving the way his hands would tighten each time she did.  
   
"Our wedding was broken up by a possible mass bomber,” Oliver said matter-of-factly as he showered her neck with tiny kisses, moving to the other side.  “I think we've had enough bad luck for today.”  
   
Felicity’s eyes flew open.  She tapped frantically at Oliver’s shoulder.  “The bomber!”  
   
 _“Yeah, I was hoping you two would remember that soon,”_ Diggle’s voice crackled in her ear sardonically.  
   
Oliver groaned and released Felicity reluctantly.  She stepped away as Oliver divested quickly of his tank and trousers, opening the glass case and pulling out the Arrow suit.  
   
“Yeah, of course!” Felicity said brightly, pulling the gown gently off her arms and then shimmied the skirt down her legs.  “You know, just working on getting each other out of our clothes.  I mean, not _each other_ out of clothes but out of our _own_ clothes.  Separately.  I mean, Oliver did have to help me with the buttons – I’m just going to stop now.”  
   
There were some chuckles that no doubt belonged to the rest of the team and Felicity squeezed her eyes shut.   
   
 _“3… 2… 1…”_ She whispered, resetting the clock and erasing the past few seconds.  She sighed as she bent over and gathered the gown.  She cast about, searching for a place to lay it.   
   
“Here,” Oliver said, leather jacket hanging open and showing off his chiseled chest.  Felicity laid the gown in Oliver’s arms and watched him hang it lovingly in the glass case that his suit had been in moments ago.  The corners of her mouth turned down slightly.  It was such a beautiful dress and now it was probably ruined by the rainwater.  Her brows furrowed in slight anger; Oliver has also looked when he promised he wouldn’t.  Not a way to start off a marriage, she groused inwardly.  She twisted her neck to shoot Oliver a glare and was surprised to find him smirking at her as he waited for her to zip him up.  She realized she was standing in her matching green bra and panties.  She rolled her eyes, in the mood to be miffed at him.  Throwing back her shoulders, she stalked to the desk where she’d left the gym pants and sweatshirt.  She pulled them on with a flourish, Oliver’s sweatshirt hanging long on her, falling well below her thighs.  She felt his presence again at her back.  
   
“I love when you wear my clothes,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, making her skin break out in bumps of awareness again.  “Even more when you wear my colors.”  
   
“Shut up,” Felicity replied, unable to muster even the slightest amount of frustration with him nuzzling into her ear.   
   
 _“And I would love to not hear any more of this conversation.”_  
   
“We have got to work on the pick up on these things,” Oliver growled when Roy’s disgusted voice filled the comm he’d just slipped in.        
   
 _“Yeah, guys, I know you’re supposed to be getting married and all, but I would think a guy threatening to blow a quadrant of Starling City off the map takes precedence,”_ Barry threw in.  
   
 _“Is that jealousy we hear creeping in, jailbait?”_  
   
 _“Do not call me jailbait, Harper!  I am older than you!”_  
   
 _“You measuring that in dog years?  Hey, when did you shave last?  Two weeks ago?  Hang in there; I am sure puberty will hit soon.”_  
   
 _“Boys!  I am sure I can find a ruler somewhere later after we take care of this guy,”_ Sara snapped.  
   
 _“Sounds like we can keep the channel clear, then,”_ Digg stated tightly.  
   
Felicity turned, ignoring the way Oliver’s eyes darkened as she began to zip him up quickly, tightening the fastenings on his gloves and boots, finishing up by checking the clasp on his quiver.  “The children are getting restless.”  
   
“So, what do we know?” Oliver asked, stepping back from Felicity; stepping into the Arrow.  
   
Felicity sat down in her chair, pulling up to her monitors and opening several windows.  “The unidentified man triggered several alarms on the executive floor of the TBA Tower, a building that is owned by the renaissance man of the corporate world, Terrence Broderick Armstrong.  Try saying that ten times fast,” she said, looking back at Oliver before back to her screens.  “Armstrong is pretty shrewd and most of the time makes very good business investments, but he does have one black mark on his record.”  
   
A slew of pictures of popped up across the screen of a group of dilapidated tenement housing buildings.  Oliver leaned over and took a closer look at the photos.  In some of the windows that weren’t broken out, he could make out laundry hanging or some other proof of life.   
   
“That’s in the Glades, isn’t it?”  
   
Felicity nodded.  “Armstrong bought it and did enough construction work to get it up to code to be approved for low income housing.  Rent was due weekly and if you couldn’t pay, you were out.  Most tenants paid in cash so it was a pretty lucrative business since cash transactions under $25,000 do not have to be reported to the IRS.  And most of it went to an off-shore account in the Caymans or Switzerland; wherever the rich and morally bankrupt keep their dirty money, I am not sure which one.”  
   
“This was the Belvedere Scandal, wasn’t it?” Oliver asked, coming around and leaning his hips against the steel top desk.  “I remember hearing about it when I got back from Lian Yu.  Armstrong forcibly removed several tenants without evictions notices, violating the city’s charter with the buildings as a housing authority because he was planning on selling it to a pharmaceutical development firm who wanted the property.”  
   
“That’s the one.  The week before, BioGen Labcorp, made a very sizable deposit into Armstrong’s account and the day after the evictions, he was gifted another couple of millions.  All would have been fine if a couple of the tenants hadn’t made their way down to their local law clinic and made a fuss over being evicted.”  
   
“CNRI,” Oliver supplied.  
   
“Right again,” Felicity said with a dazzling smile.  “A tenacious young lawyer by the name of Laurel Lance went after Armstrong with a vengeance.  She charged him with every single corporate law you can think of.”  
   
“Why didn’t he serve any jail time?”  
   
 _“Armstrong_ didn’t.” Felicity turned to the computer and pulled up a web copy of the Starling City Sentinel.  The image on the front page was of a slightly heavy-set man with graying hair at his temples in a rumpled business suit being led down the steps of a Federal Building in handcuffs.  “This guy, however, got 10 to 15 in a federal facility for embezzlement and misappropriation of funds.”  
   
“Who is that?”  
   
“That is Armstrong’s CFO, Rey Dowling.  Before Armstrong could even set foot in a courtroom, Mr. Dowling came forward and confessed that he had made the deal with BioGen and he was the one who orchestrated the entire plot and that Armstrong had nothing to do with it.  The D.A. slapped him with the embezzlement and misappropriation of funds charge and that was that.”  
   
“So, Armstrong walks away with his millions while someone else serves his prison time,” Oliver concluded.     
   
“That is the story I am putting together,” Felicity replied.  
   
Oliver pushed away from the desk and walked to the cabinet he kept his bow in.  “Before you start trying to hack his security feed, get me the schematics of the building and send them out.  I want to know what this place looks like.  After that, let’s get in there and take a look around and try to I.D. this guy.  We could be dealing with another run-of-the-mill terrorist or we could have wandered into some personal vendetta against Armstrong.  There are too many smoking guns here.”  
   
“Already on it,” Felicity said as she began pulling up the city site she hacked for blueprints and began sending them to the team.  Oliver’s phone beeped and he pulled it out, the blueprint filling his screen.  He pressed the comm activator just inside the jacket.  “Are you getting these?”  Several confirmations flowed for the team who had been poised and listening as Felicity gave the run down to Oliver.  “Digg, take what we know to Lance.  Let’s start trading information.  
   
Felicity pushed out of her chair and went to stand in front of Oliver.  “I’ll work on getting access to his security feed.  Lance said Armstrong told him he had two.  When I make a break, I’ll let you know and go from there.”  
   
Oliver nodded.  Felicity reached up and straightened the mask, smoothing her hands along the sides.  She grasped the hood behind his neck and pulled it forward, shielding his eyes.   
   
“You better kick his ass for ruining our wedding,” Felicity told him.  
   
Oliver chuckled and leaned forward, pressing a hard kiss to her lips; the one he always gave her before he went out.   
   
“I love you,” Oliver said softly.  
   
“I love you, too.”  
   
Brushing her cheek with his gloved hand, Felicity watched Oliver sprint up the stairs and out into the still pouring rain.  She listened absently to the team talking amongst each other as she went back to her monitors and began running program sequences to crack the feed open.  Felicity easily got access to the main security feed only to see the timestamp and know the footage had been looped.   
   
“The main security feed has been looped,” Felicity told the others.  “Lance said Armstrong's head of security said there was a secondary security feed.  I’m going to see if the bomber has disabled it or just hasn’t triggered it yet.”  
   
 _“It wouldn’t be triggered if the main feed was looped?”_ Barry asked.  
   
“Not if this guy knows what he is doing,” Felicity answered.  After a few moments, she sighed.  “Which he does.”  
   
 _“Can you trigger it from there?”_ Oliver suggested.  
   
“Way ahead of you.  This guy may know what he is doing, but luckily, so do I.  Got it!” Felicity exclaimed happily, fist in the air, when a grainy secondary feed popped up.  
   
 _“Lance and his men seem pretty sure the guy is up on the Executive floor,”_ Digg offered.  
   
Felicity ran a program that scanned different camera angles simultaneously for body heat.  “There are a few people still left in this building.  I’ve got groups of people scattered all across the infrastructure.”          
   
 _“Digg, tell Lance we have possible hostages or possible assailants.  We’ll try to confirm,”_ Oliver ordered.  _“Felicity, can you make out what they are?”_  
   
Opening up one of the angles, Felicity saw the few people on one floor all huddled together in a group. Zooming in and running a sharpener over the image, she could make out ropes tied around their wrists and their mouths gagged.  
   
"Hostages," Felicity confirmed. "We've got hostages."  
   
 _"Tell Lance. Have you got eyes on our guy yet?"_  
   
"Just about.  Camera is having some trouble coming online on the Executive floor," Felicity explained as she started working to get the camera up and working. Barring any physical damage done, it shouldn't be hard to fix the software. Most Fortune 500 companies no longer operated in good old fashion recording camera but web based systems so they could be monitored remotely.  This was no different. Someone had disabled the router but with a quick virtual band-aid, Felicity was able to turn the router back on.  
   
"Oh," Felicity breathed.  "Jackpot."  
   
 _"Felicity, do you have a visual?"_ Oliver asked.  
   
"Oh, yeah," Felicity replied tensely.  "I've got a visual of a man covered with explosives and holding Mr. Armstrong and a woman in what looks to be an office."  
   
 _"Can you get a shot of his face to run it through facial recognition?"_  
   
"I don't need to," Felicity said softly as the man circled the frightened couple.  "It's Rey Dowling.”  
   
 _“The guy who was supposed to be in prison?”_ Barry asked.  
   
 _“Apparently the charge for embezzlement and that other thing she spouted off has become more lenient over the years,”_ Roy panned.  
   
 _“Get me everything on him, Felicity,”_ Oliver ground out.  
   
Felicity nodded before she realized Oliver couldn't see her.  "On it.”  
   
She quickly called up everything on there was on Rey Dowling on the World Wide Web and beyond.  Using the reading technique she’s learned in college for optimal studying, Felicity began putting together the most comprehensive dossier on Dowling in 100 words or less.   
   
“According to the records, Rey Dowling should still be serving his sentence in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in San Diego.  Let’s take a guess and say they don’t he took a vacation,” Felicity began.  
   
 _“Then why don’t we inform them?  Digg, have one of Lance’s men call the Correctional Center and let them know one of their inmates went for a walk,”_ Oliver suggested.  _“Any clues on why he is back in Starling and holding Armstrong?”_  
   
“He took the fall for Armstrong and went to prison for over a decade; there is clue number one,” Felicity muttered.  She heard some chuckle over the comm and knew Oliver must have made a face at her.  She shrugged.  And then her jaw dropped.  “And here is clue number two.  Armstrong recently got married.  
   
 _“So?  He got married.  Why would this Dowling guy care?”_ Digg asked.  
   
“Oh, he’d care.  Armstrong married Dowling’s ex-wife,” Felicity clarified.  
   
 _“How much of an ex are we talking about?”_  
   
“Not very much of one.  Hold on.”  Felicity pulled up the Starling City Records and typed in Armstrong’s name under licenses.  “Looks like we have a marriage license for only a year and a half after Dowling was incarcerated.  Wow; they were married a week after Jacquelin Dowling, now Jacquelin Armstrong, and Rey Dowling’s divorce was finalized.  He’d been in a prison only a few months.”  
   
 _“That must have been an awkward conjugal visit,”_ Sara said, causing Felicity to giggle.  
   
Someone cleared their throat.

“Right, sorry.”  Felicity looked at the specs on the kind of security camera Armstrong had installed.  “I’m trying to see if I can pull up any audio for you.  Think I have something; sending it over the comms now.”  She opened the comms wireless signals and a hoarse filled all their ears.  
   
Felicity watched Dowling gesture wildly, something in his hand.  _“No!  You both did this to me!  You planned this!  Once I was in prison, you took the money and then you took my wife!  But, I bet she was in on it from the beginning, weren’t you, sweetie-pie?  All I want is what is rightfully mine.  Now, type in the damn code and let’s go!”_  
   
 _“What code is he talking about?”_ Oliver asked.  
   
“There is a pending transfer from an off-shore account in Armstrong’s name for 2 million dollars.  I am guessing that is what Dowling is talking about,” Felicity answered.  “If all he wants is the money, then why is does he have all those bombs?”  
   
 _“He doesn’t just want the money,”_ Oliver replied.  _“Money or not, he’s going to set off those charges.  Time to move in.”_  
   
“I’ll pass on whatever new information I get,” Felicity told the group.  She grabbed the cell phone she kept at the lair and dialed Detective Lance’s number.   
   
 _“Ms. Smoak, what do you have for me?”_ Lance answered on the first ring.   
   
Oliver listened to the conversation Felicity was having with Detective Lance before turning the small group of people huddled around him, awaiting instructions.  
   
“Diggle, are you close?”  
   
“Yeah,” Digg answered Oliver right as he walked around the corner and stood with the group.  “All the doors that don’t open to the main street are set with a small charge.  I don’t know if the bomb squad saw them when they swept but they are still active.”  He pulled out his phone and swiped his finger across the screen, handing it over to Sara who peered at the picture there.   
   
“Looks like a unique design,” Sara said.  She handed the phone to Oliver and looked back at Diggle.  “But a bomb is a bomb.  The sonic pulses from the Canary Calls should disrupt any frequencies the bomb is working on.”  
   
Oliver quirked a brow.  “Canary Calls?”  
   
 _“I named them so we don’t keep calling them ‘Sonic Things’,”_ Felicity chirped in his ears.  _“You got a problem with that?”_  
   
“She’s named all your arrows,” Sara told him with a smirk.  
   
“She’s _what?”_  
   
 _“Yep.  I’ll give you a list when you get back tonight.”_  
   
Oliver shook his head with a tiny smile.  Would the reasons to love this woman never end?  He gave his attention back to his team.  “Diggle, Barry and Roy, I want you to take the…” Oliver paused, his team raising their brows to see if he would say it.  “The _Canary Calls_ and disable all the charges on the doors.  Barry, Roy, once Digg disables them, get inside and free the hostages.  Diggle will go ahead of you and scan the other floors for more hostages.  Sara and I will find a way in from the roof to the executive lounge.  Once you release the hostages, make your way up there.  Felicity?”  
   
 _“There is an access panel on the roof that you and Sara can get through.  You just have to find a way on to the roof,”_ Felicity told him as the other dispersed around him, leaving he and Sara to look up at the tall building from the alley they were taking cover in.  
   
“Any ideas?” Oliver asked the women.  Sara was scanning the skyline but there were no other buildings tall enough to gain access to the roof.  
   
 _“You could crash through the windows from the bell tower of the cathedral,”_ Felicity offered sarcastically.  
   
Oliver looked at Sara.  She shrugged her shoulders.  “I’m game.”  
   
“Felicity, get me the distance from the church bell tower to the TBA tower,” Oliver said.  
   
 _“That was a not serious suggestion, Oliver!”_ Felicity’s frantic voice flooded the comms.  
   
Sara and Oliver ducked back into the church, searching for hallway that would lead to the stairs and up into the bell tower.   
   
“No, but it’s the best we got right now,” Oliver replied cheekily.  He and Sara high-fived when they found the stairwell; moments later their phones buzzed with the information Oliver has requested.  He looked quickly and saw the distance was just enough to be covered by his zipline.  
   
 _“Just so you know, if you make me a widow before I am even married, I will very annoyed, Mr. Queen,”_ Felicity snapped at him, hiding her anxiety for the daredevil feat he was about to attempt.  
   
“Felicity, it’s not like I haven’t rappelled into buildings before,” Oliver pointed out helpfully, hoping to calm her jittery nerves.  
   
Felicity sighed heavily.  _“Just…  Be careful.”_  
   
Oliver smiled softly.  “Always am.”  
   
 _“Liar.”_  
   
Oliver’s smile grew as he and Sara continued to trudge up the stairs at a fast pace.   
   
“We should be almost there now,” Sara observed as the modern stairs gave way to narrow wooden ones the two had to take single file.  Soon, there was a door before them and all Sara had to do was lift her foot and kick, sending the door caving in on itself.  She and Oliver stepped through, each bending low to avoid the many bronze bells that varied in sizes.  Spying the catwalk around the largest bell of them all, Oliver led Sara over to the surprisingly sturdy boardwalk that led to the window that faced TBA Towers, according to Felicity’s schematics.  Coming to the end of the boardwalk, the two agilely leapt over to the thick cement of the wall that opened out, a large view of Starling City before them.  
   
“We’re at the north-facing ledge, Felicity,” Oliver informed her.  “Can you tell you where we will be entering?”  
   
 _“From the trajectory, you’ll crash right into the Executive Lounge.”_  
   
“Can you disarm his connector device to the bombs with one of the Canary Calls when we get in there?” Oliver asked Sara.  
   
Sara shook her head.  “With that much firepower strapped to him, it won’t make a difference.  It will be like pouring a cup of cold water on a dragon.  Best bet is to incapacitate him and get the detonator away from him.”  
   
“Felicity, give me a layout.”  
   
 _“Dowling is pacing about twenty feet from the window you two will be entering.  He has Armstrong and Jacquelin corned behind a large desk.  If you can crash into the window and then tuck into a roll, you should both be able to get a piece of him.”_  
   
Taking the correct arrow from his quiver, Oliver aligned it on his bow and then aimed.  He released and the arrow went flying.  It hit the opposite building, the sharp titanium tip of the arrow burrowing into the building; its teeth catching and hanging.      
   
He braced himself, feet shoulder-width apart, gripping the thick rope in his hands.  He motioned Sara over with a hitch of his chin.  Without words, Sara wrapped her arms around Oliver’s neck and got a good hold.   
   
“When we hit the window, I’ll go for Dowling and distract him while you get Armstrong and his wife out,” Oliver ordered.   
   
Sara nodded.  “Digg and the boys are only a few floors down.  I’ll send the pair to them.”  
   
Oliver took a deep breath.  “Here we go.”    
   
He gave a powerful push off the ledge with his legs.  The wind whipped their faces and rain stung as they swung through the air.  Seconds later, the sound of glass shattering filled their ears and both landed with grunts on the plush carpet.  Immediately, Oliver tucked into a roll, hitting Dowling mid-pace with his heavily muscled body, throwing the man to the ground.  Catching the sight of Sara hauling the dazed looking couple to their feet and rushing them out the door, Oliver pounced on the man while he was still dazed himself from the fall.  They grappled for the detonator, Oliver trying with all his might to pull it from his vice-like grip.  Suddenly, Oliver was on his back, looking up at the snarling face of Rey Dowling.  The two men struggled, each almost losing grip of the detonator at a point until Dowling flopped forward onto Oliver.  He looked up and saw Sara holding a heavy looking statue in her hands.  
   
“Good thing Armstrong appreciates the classic bronze era,” Sara said as she let the thing drop.  Oliver pushed the man off him, grabbing the detonator and standing to his feet.  The two of them hovered over the device.   
   
“Damn,” Oliver groused.  “Felicity, the timer is going.  It must have been activated when Dowling and I were wrestling for it.”       
   
 _“Is it wireless or does it have an antennae?”_  
   
Turning it over in his hands, Oliver didn’t see anything protruding from it or a place for it to be plugged in and charged.   
   
“I think it’s wireless.  I don’t see any charging ports,” Oliver answered.  
   
 _“Hold up one of the Canary Calls to it.”_  
   
Sara took one out of her small pocket and held it next to the detonator.  
   
 _“The detonator is transmitting.  Take it over to one of the bombs and let me see if they match.”_  
   
“What will that tell you?” Sara asked as she approached Dowling and began running the Canary Call back and forth over him.  
   
 _“If they match, that means he’s not using a bouncer to send his signal back to the bombs.    I can disarm the detonator from here.  If they don’t match it means you would need to find the secondary source in order to fully disarm the detonator.”_  
   
“Let’s hope they match,” Oliver muttered as he watched the rapidly dwindling red numbers.  
   
 _“I have a match!”_ Felicity crowed after some indeterminable seconds.  
   
“What do we do?” Sara questioned, ready for action.  
   
 _“I need you to hold the Canary Call right up against the detonator.  I’m going to lock onto the signal and send a virus to the detonator which should disarm it.”_  
   
Sara did as Felicity instructed, Oliver and her watching intently as the numbers continued their countdown.  They could hear furious typing through their comms as time lessened.  When it reached 10 seconds, Oliver felt his heart speed up.  He took a deep breath, ready to tell Felicity how much he loved her; knowing 10 seconds wouldn’t be enough time for him and Sara to make it to safety.   
   
“Felicity –“  
   
 _“Don’t you dare,”_ Felicity growled through gritted teeth.  
   
The numbers reached 0.04 before there was a beep and the device blinked off.  Sighs of relief were heard from everyone.   
   
“Tell Lance we got his bomber if he wants him,” Oliver told Diggle.  “And make sure he detains Armstrong for questioning.  We can’t let him get off.”  
   
Sara and Oliver made short work of securing Dowling to a grand wooden pillar for the police before the two of them disappeared down the back stairs.  They met the rest of the team back in the alley, leaving the clean up to the trained officials.   
   
“Hey, the minister is still cowering in his office,” Roy told Oliver with a smile as they all ducked back into the church to change back into their street clothes.  “You want to pick up where you left off?”  
   
 _“No,”_ Felicity snapped on the other end.  
   
“You having second thoughts?” Oliver teased.  
   
 _“Nope, I am just taking my mother’s advice.”_  
   
“And that would be?”  
   
 _“The Bride that marries in May will rue the day.  We are_ not _getting married in this hostile month.”_

 ** _A couple of months later in September…_**  
   
Oliver dug his toes into the warm sand under his bare feet.  He liked this.  Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled as he appreciated the deep royal blue of the outstretched ocean before it lightened to a breath-taking turquoise the closer it got to the shore, finally turning clear as it lapped up in gentle waves a few feet from him.  He turned back to his front, smiling at the small group that was gathered around in a few white chairs.  A sigh of contentment filled him.  He and Felicity had finally achieved the perfect ceremony.  Small, intimate and _very_ private.   
   
After the events of that fateful May day, the wedding planner had been fired and replaced with a party planner who, as Oliver stood there on a beautiful beach over 6,000 miles away from California, was planning a very elegant and opulent reception for when the couple returned to Starling City in a few months after their honeymoon.   
   
Once everyone had left the lair, Oliver and Felicity locked up and went to her apartment, snuggling up on the couch, her laptop open on both their laps as they scoured the internet for an optimum wedding location far away from anything.  They found a deserted little island in a deserted little island chain 200 miles off the coast of South America.  In a little over three weeks, plans had been made, property purchased and travel plans finalized.  Oliver and Felicity were getting married on a private island recently purchased by Oliver Queen for his future wife in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with no civilization on the island anywhere.  Being a millionaire finally had it perks, Oliver thought with a grin.  
   
Earlier that morning, all nine members of the wedding party left Natal in a small leer jet and landed on a small, rocky runway that had just been built a few days previous.  In white tents, Oliver and Felicity got ready for their nuptials.  The sun was shining and there was a light sea breeze that carried the scent of the many exotic tropical flowers that grew on the island.  Everything was perfect.  An excited grin bloomed on Oliver’s face as he met the eyes of the all the people surrounding him.  Roy, Sara, Barry, Carla Smoak and Walter all stood in a half-moon in front of him; the people in his life that were truly special to him.  He and Felicity were a little sad to not have Quentin Lance present, but the hardened Detective was still dealing with the fallout from the Armstrong affair and couldn’t afford to drop and run off for a wedding on a private island.  
   
There was a rustle and Oliver looked off to one of the white tents that had been set up for Thea and Felicity.  Diggle had stepped out and gave Oliver and the minister a thumbs-up.  Oliver’s pulse sped up.  It was time.  
   
Oliver stood up straighter, clasping his hands in front of him.  The sea breeze brushed his bare calves bringing with it a slight cool spray from the water behind him causing him to shiver a bit.   
   
Thea was the first to emerge.  She smiled brightly at her brother as she made her way toward him, her own bare feet sinking in the sand.  Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and she carried a bouquet of flowers that seemed even more vibrant against her simple beige sundress.  She walked up to Oliver and hugged him before taking her place across from him as maid of honor.  They each turned, as did everyone else, eyes trained on the opening of the tent.   
   
Diggle stepped out first, matching Oliver in a light linen shirt on top of khaki beach pants.  He held the flap of the tent up as Felicity stepped out and Oliver felt all the air leave his body in gust of breath.  
   
There was no music, only the sound of waves rolling on the shore and the sounds of Oliver’s heart pounding.  The smile slipped from his face was overwhelmed with awe.  Felicity beamed at him, taking Digg’s arm as they began to slow walk down the make-shift aisle.  The sun lit her from behind, shining down on her long blonde hair that flowed free past her shoulders.  Unlike the last dress, the frock Felicity chose this time was a knee length sheaf of pure white, gathered at one side of her waist and with a small cluster of pearls.  Oliver thought she looked even more beautiful than she did in the fancy gown.  She was radiant and glowed and Oliver could feel the warmth of her love the closer she got.  He fought to stay where he was, letting Felicity come to meet him.  He wanted to have her by his side but he didn’t want this moment to end; the moment of watching this impossible woman who loved him fiercely walking toward him, choosing to join her life with his until death did they part.  
   
He couldn’t stand still any longer.  When she was a few feet from him, Oliver reached out and took her hand, taking her from Diggle as they walked the rest of the way to stand before the minister.  He twined their fingers together, drinking in the sight of her of affectionate stare.  Diggle took his place next to Oliver, standing up as best man as his two best friends pledged themselves to one another.      
   
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Oliver and Felicity, who have chosen to join their lives together in the bonds of matrimony.  The words which will be spoken here today are sacred, although these words are not what joins these two. Indeed, it is not I who is joining these two today at all, nor is it this ceremony.   
   
“We are not here to mark the start of a relationship; we are here to recognize a bond that already exists. Oliver and Felicity have joined themselves together, and we have gathered so that they might bear witness before us of the oneness that has grown up between them. Here, they will affirm this oneness and this dedication formally and publicly, as they have already affirmed it to each other. As they now exist as one in their own eyes; so may they exist in yours. This union has already occurred in the giving and receiving of their love and in the myriad ways in which they have entwined their lives together,” he paused for a breath and then looked out to small group gathered there.  
   
“So, I ask, who gives this woman to be married to this man?” The minister asked.  
   
“We do,” the few intoned.  
   
“And who gives this man to be married to this man?”  
   
With bright smiles, the attendees again answered, “We do.”  
The minister nodded and continued, “We live in a world of joy and fear and search for meaning and strength in the seeming disorder. We discover the truest guideline to our quest when we realize love in all its magnitudes. Love is the eternal force of life. Love is the force that allows us to face fear and uncertainty with courage.  For the giving of yourself in love is difficult, for you must learn to give of your love without total submission of yourself. Therefore, in your giving, give your joy, your sadness, your interest, your understanding, your knowledge - all expressions that make up life. But in this giving, remember to preserve yourself - your integrity, your individuality. This is the challenge of love within marriage.  For it is –“  
   
 _“Excuse me!”_  A voice yelled.  
   
“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Felicity exclaimed; her face screwing with anger as they all turned to a man trudging up the bank from the rocky shore just a ways down.  Oliver recognized the pilot of the plane waiting to take them back after the ceremony.  The man arrived within the group, turning red at all the angry glares focused on him.  
   
“I am so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Queen, but we need to go.  I just picked up radio transmissions from a Somalian pirate ship that has just docked on the North beach of the island to dispose of the hostages they took during their last raid. If they see your group, I can’t guarantee your safety.  We need get back to the mainland,” he explained urgently.  
   
“They have hostages?” Oliver confirmed.   
   
The man nodded.  “I took a quick walk and took a look.  And they don’t look friendly, either.”  
   
Oliver looked at Diggle, Roy, Barry and Sara.  “Did you bring the gear?”  
   
Sly smiles spread across faces as the group nodded.   
   
“Let’s suit up!” Oliver exclaimed, clapping his hands together.   
   
“Hold up there, Cowboy,” a stern voice called out as a hand grabbed Oliver’s shirt and held him in place.  “You four stay put, too.”  
   
They all look sheepishly at Felicity whose face was set in steely determination as she looked at them with hard eyes.   
   
“We are getting married _now._ I am not getting chipped out of a wedding night _again._ This way, when you defeat the bad guys, there will be a celebration.  For goodness sake, I am having sex on my wedding night!”  
   
Oliver swallowed, arousal washing over his body at the color in Felicity’s cheeks.  He chuckled deeply at the Minister’s dropped-jaw.   
   
Felicity took Oliver’s hand again and without breaking eye contact said, “Making snappy, Reverend.”  
   
The Minister fumbled for his notes and with a stutter began, racing through the rest of the ceremony.  
   
“You may kiss the bride,” he closed moments later.  
   
Oliver pulled Felicity close, wrapping his arms around her as they kissed passionately against the soundtrack of the many whoops and hollers from the small crowd.  When they broke, Felicity pulled away and stood up on her tiptoes.  
   
“You better be careful,” she whispered in his ear with a sultry tone.  “I’ve got plans for you.”  
   
"Whatever you say, Ms. Smoak," Oliver whispered in return, breathing in the soft scent of her hair.  
   
She came back on her flat feet and looked up at with a dazzling smile.  "That is Mrs. Queen to you."  
  


End file.
